Stranger
by CHAILYN
Summary: Uncharted Territory. Dean finds himself rifling through his brother’s duffel and wishes he didn’t. Set in Season 1.


**Stranger**

_Note: Because once again, I'd rather write fanfic than dive into my algebra homework. I don't own Supernatural, I never have, I never will…if that doesn't cover everything you can sue me and take my algebra textbook :D _

_Summary: Uncharted Territory. Dean finds himself rifling through his brother's duffel and wishes he didn't. Set in Season 1._

_--_

Dean ruffled through his brother's duffle bag, searching for the berretta that he knew he had seen Sam toss in there the other day.

He was going damn close to stir crazy in the motel room waiting for Sam to get back from the library where he was spending the day searching through the obits in an attempt to find out how it was that Hugh Anson died, and was buried so that they could be done with the sonvabitch, and get the hell out of Nowheresville, Minnesota. The spirit seemed to get his kicks picking up pigtailed schoolgirls, and as far as Dean saw it, the sooner they got rid of the perverse bastard, the better.

Sam hadn't allowed him to come along to the library, telling him that they weren't going to accomplish a damn thing with Dean climbing the walls, and harassing the librarian. And damn it all to hell, but he'd done something that he was sure he probably shouldn't with Sam's laptop and now all it made was some half-cocked buzzing sound when he pressed the power button…yeah, not good. Sam was gonna be bitching for the next hundred miles.

It was so not his fault either…he was borderline cabin fever. They might as well have been in Quaker County with the lack of bars he found himself faced with. You can't fault a guy for boredom in this place.

He'd some to the conclusion that he was going to have to settle for the second best, cleaning his guns—which he did, and now they were in spectacular, perfect working order, he was going to be an awesome brother and clean Sam's for him too.

His brother so did not appreciate him enough.

And god! Sam packed more useless crap than Dean ever realized his brother did. _The Brother's something-or-another…_Dean couldn't pronounce the rest of the title to save his life, which only further proved that if Sam was reading stuff like this for _fun_, he really needed to get laid.

"And like that's ever going to happen." Dean mumbled aloud, it had been a few months, but Dean knew that Sam was still taking the thing with Jessica pretty hard.

He sighed, he wasn't ever going to find it at this rate, and he so was not rifling through his brother's underwear with his bare hands. They didn't do laundry frequently enough for him to be comfortable with that.

Dean lifted the bag, and dumped it out onto the bed, he'd put it all back once he found the gun, and Sam wouldn't even know.

Win-Win scenario.

_Except, of course, Sam was so OCD with his stuff, Dean was never going to figure out how to pack it back up properly._

Oh well, Dean shrugged, Sam was going to be so pissed off about the computer, he probably wouldn't realize.

Dean quickly tossed the clothes back in, not bothering to fold them, 'cause really, what was the point? Clothes are clothes either way.

Books, books, and more books…Dean barely gave them a second glance before tossing them back in. The closest to literature he had any intention of getting was _Maxim. _

He quickly realized that the gun wasn't in the pile at all.

Side pocket, he concluded.

Dean felt around, and came up with a small, square box.

_What in the hell?_

It was covered in black velvet, and he couldn't help to feel a bit uneasy as he pulled it open.

He shouldn't have, there were some things that you can't come back from once you see it, and he was pretty sure this was one of them.

A diamond ring, a diamond engagement ring.

_So what are you going to do? Live some normal, apple pie life?_

_I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life_

Dean dropped it back into the bag, done with his aspirations for digging out the berretta. Somehow cleaning had suddenly lost its appeal. He zipped the bag up.

He wondered if Sam blamed him for all of this, for pulling him away from her. If he hadn't come and got Sam, and asked him to help him find dad…he would have been there. Maybe he could have saved her.

Or maybe it would have gotten him too.

He grabbed his keys, and his phone off of the table.

He needed some air, and a drink, and to forget..._everything_.

He wondered how many other things there were that Sam never told him. He wondered if Sam just didn't trust him, or if it was because he didn't trust himself.

Dean wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that question. Maybe it was better for some questions to remain unanswered, and some secrets to always be secrets.


End file.
